


Daisies In Your Hair

by WordsByMarcy



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Don't copy to another site, First Love, Flowers, Fluff, M/M, fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23336704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsByMarcy/pseuds/WordsByMarcy
Summary: “Let’s be together from now on, okay,” is what Gon told him while escaping from Killua’s house.And of course, he agreed. He would follow wherever Gon’s heart would beat. He would chase after his laughter—latch onto its sound. Run towards every intangible thing he could offer. And maybe—maybe one day he’ll be brave enough to touch.
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 15
Kudos: 169





	Daisies In Your Hair

**Author's Note:**

> This one is just fluff, fluffy fluff with a side of Killua and his sad thoughts.

**Daisies in your hair**

By: WordsByMarcy

* * *

“Illumi, how do people do it?”

“How do people do what, Killua?”

“How are they able to be so kind?”

“They’re kind because they’re weak.”

“Hmm…” Killua hums — deep in thought. That didn’t sound right. He’s sure people are kind for another reason — something he’s not able to understand. Not him nor his brother Illumi. 

“Now Killua,” the stone-cold voice of Illumi echos through his earpiece, “don’t get distracted, you’re on a mission.”

He sighs, disheartened. He despises being here — on a mission. He hates what he does to people. How he makes them scream in agony — stealing light from their eyes, claiming their last breath. How he paints the night scarlet with their life.

He hates it. _Loathes it._

But most of all. 

Killua hates himself.

He’s afraid of himself. Scared of what he is, or what he’ll become. Terrified of his own hands — of all the lives he’s taken.

And they still tremble, his hands still tremble — and they _shouldn’t_ , he has no right to mourn the deaths of his victims. _He has no right_. Not when he’s the reason one less heart beats at night. 

But he still does it. Despite everything. He still does it. He looks down at his palms — crimson liquid splattered on pale skin. _He’s done it again_. He continues to be the reason someone fears for their life. 

“I’m a monster — _aren’t I.”_

  
  


* * *

He runs. 

He runs as fast as his 12-year-old legs can take him — as fast as the night will let him. 

But Killua isn’t alone. This time, his palm is warm with something other than blood. His hand is holding onto another one — a warm sun-kissed hand. He’s holding onto a boy. A beautiful boy with caramel eyes and breathtaking smiles. A boy that gives meaning to the word 'kind.' A boy whose name resounds deep within his heart.

 _Gon_.

“Let’s be together from now on, okay,” is what Gon told him while escaping from Killua’s house.

And of course, he agreed. He would follow wherever Gon’s heart would beat. He would chase after his laughter — latch onto its sound. Run towards every intangible thing he could offer. And maybe — maybe one day he’ll be brave enough to touch. 

Them holding hands tonight doesn’t count. It’s Gon who’s holding him — it’s him who’s strong enough to bear the weight of Killua’s heart. Still, he dreams of the day he’ll be able to carry Gons pain. Take the bruises for him — shed the tears he won’t need. 

And eventually, he’ll have the courage to touch him. 

* * *

“Killua,” Gon gets his attention, “ turn around.”

He turns to get a look at his friend. He opens his mouth but shuts it once he feels Gon’s fingers through his hair. It feels like he’s tucking something soft inside it. 

“Umm…hey,” Killua mumbles shyly, “ what are you doing?”

“I’m sticking some daisies in your hair,” Gon answers — like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

“And why are you doing it?”

“Because it looks nice.”

Killua’s cheeks light up like red fireworks on the night sky. His whole body warms up, and it had nothing to do with the heat. 

“I’m not a flower vase, you know.”

“Mmmm,” Gon hums softly, “ could’ve fooled me.” He stops placing daisies on his hair and leans away to observe his creation. “Yeah, just like I thought,” he smiles down at him, “ Killua is very pretty.” 

“I’m not,” he mutters quietly — head turning to face the ground.

_It’s true._

He isn’t pretty. He can’t be pretty. _He just couldn’t_ — not with all this blood on his hands. He’s unfit for his kind words, and he doesn’t deserve them — not when they aren’t true. 

“What are you thinking?” Gon asks, sitting down beside him. 

Killua slowly looks at him and then at the sky, admiring the intricate shapes the clouds make. How would it feel to be a cloud, he wonders. Would he feel sadness? Regret? Would he float away — to a place where nobody knows his name? Where nobody asks what he’s done.

He sighs into the silence — the sweet sound of silence. 

“I’d rather be anything but me,” Killua finally responds.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “A bird? A flower?”

“You’d be a pretty flower.”

There he goes again with that word. Killua groans, ignoring the redness of his cheeks. He closes his eyes and imagines his life in a flower field. 

  
  
If he was a flower, would Gon pick him? 

Would he pluck him off the ground and tuck him in his hair as he did earlier?

Would he care for him? Water him? Devote his entire life to a single blue flower?

_He would._

Of course, he would. That’s just like him — cherishing the life of every single creature. Yeah…that’s just like Gon. And Killua wants to be just like him. His heart aches to be as kind as he can be. He yearns to give life — and not to take any. He wants to give warmth — not just feel it splattered scarlet across his hands. 

And, more than anything, he wishes that one day he’ll be worthy of Gon’s words.

“But you know, Killua…” Gon turns to look at him, “ I’m glad you are who you are.”

“Why?”

“Because, I would’ve never known how beautiful life could be — if I hadn’t met you,” Gon finishes — fondness swimming inside his nut-brown eyes. 

Is he allowed to feel like this? Like they're the reason love exists. Does he deserve it? This warm feeling that's flowing through his body. Killua doesn’t know, but he doesn’t want it to stop — not when he feels he’s floating along with the clouds.

So he fills his chest with courage and finally says, “ Gon…I’m going to hold your hand.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's short since I usually write a ton of dialogue xd and I'm used to trying to write fun stuff so this is a more "serious" approach to writing, if that even makes sense.
> 
> You're welcome to bother me at my [**Tumblr!**](https://wordsbymarcy.tumblr.com/) Make me your friend.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!! Leave a comment if you can!! Much love.
> 
> _Marcy._


End file.
